


S10E12 About A Boy

by BlueMoon007



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - High School, Corporal Punishment, Paddling, Spanking, Team Dean Winchester's Red Ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28330950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMoon007/pseuds/BlueMoon007
Summary: The hex bag goes up in flames before Dean is able to transform back to his normal age and is stuck in his 14-year-old body.
Comments: 90
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Doesn't follow canon, not beta'd.  
> 

“Alright, Sammy, let’s go home,” Dean said climbing into Baby.  
Sam stood and stared at his, now much smaller, older brother. The hex bag had gone up in flames with the witch and Tina had decided she was going to get herself a fresh start. And Dean… Dean seemed okay with his new situation. The Mark of Cain was gone after all. Sam was the only one that wasn’t happy about the new situation.  
“Come on, Sammy, we’re losing daylight here,” Dean called from the passenger side of the Impala.  
Sam rolled his eyes and climbed in and started towards home.

Dean had been quiet for a whole five minutes, Sam noticed and glanced over, Dean was sound asleep leaning on the car window. Sam glanced at the clock on the dash, it was barely after 9, aside from a dinner break around 5 they had been driving nonstop since they had left the small town in Oregon. Sam was ready for a break, he pulled off the interstate at the next exit and found a nearby motel. Dean didn’t wake when he stopped the car and hadn’t budged when Sam opened the car door. He shook Dean awake and he eventually stumbled out asking if it was his turn to drive.  
“No, it’s time for bed,” Sam lead Dean to their room. Dean rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock.  
“Sammy, it’s still early.”  
“Yeah, well I’m tired and you can’t exactly help with the driving.”  
Dean scoffed, “I still know how to drive.”  
“You look 14, Dean. You can’t drive, it’ll draw attention.”  
“Fine,” Dean grumbled and collapsed onto the bed. He was out cold before Sam had finished using the bathroom.

Sam groaned when his cell phone on the end table rang, and rang, and rang.  
“Dean, can you get that?” he grumbled trying to hide his head under the pillow to block out the sound, but the phone kept ringing. It took several moments before Sam was awake enough to grab his phone and answer with a sleepy, “Hello?”  
“Is this Sam?”  
“Who’s this?”  
“Sorry to wake you, I’m Officer Higgens, I have your son Dean here with me.”  
That made Sam sit up and hit the light switch by the bed, the bed next to him was empty.  
“Damn it!” he swore, “where are you?.... Ok, I’ll be right there.”  
Sam pulled on his clothes, opened the motel door, and swore again as he saw the Impala was gone. It was after midnight, Dean must have woken up and decided to visit the local bar, forgetting that a young teenager walking into a bar would certainly not work in his favor. Sam called a cab to take him to the location the officer had told him. 

20 minutes later he finally made it.  
“Officer Higgens?” Sam asked as he walked over to the very annoyed looking officer and held out a hand to shake, “I’m Sam, we spoke on the phone, Dean’s father,” Sam had to clear his throat to get the word father out.  
“I’m sorry to have woken you.”  
“Oh its no problem, what’s going on?” Sam asked as he glanced past the man at Dean who was in the back of the patrol car.  
“Well, it seems Dean here, thought it would be fun to take your car for a little joy ride, then stopped here and tried to order a drink and flirt with the bartender.”  
Sam raised his eyebrow and put on a face of mock surprise as if the idea of Dean going out in the middle of the night was quite a surprise to him.  
“I’m so sorry for the trouble, I’m not sure what got into him tonight,” Sam tried to sound like an apologetic parent.  
Officer Higgens nodded sympathetically, “I have two of my own, teenagers, damn idiots sometimes, I’ll let it slide this time but if I catch him again I’ll have to file a report.”  
“Thank you, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again,” Sam promised as Officer Higgens opened the door to the car and pulled Dean out.  
Sam looked down at Dean, he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle this, Officer Higgens clearly believed he was Dean’s father, he had to keep that up at least until he got Dean back to the motel, his brain quickly went back to their own father and how he had handled them when they go out of line.  
Sam put his hands on his hips, “I think you have something to say to Officer Higgens.” Sam tried to look serious. Dean scoffed and the officer looked ready to toss Dean back into his car. Sam gave his classic bitchface.  
“What?” Dean asked.  
“Apologize for the trouble you’ve caused.”  
Dean looked up in surprise, Sam was using a tone that came as close as he could to a Dad-voice without the years of practice. He was not about to be told what to do by his little brother, momentarily forgetting that Sam was indeed playing the part that Dean himself had cast him in.  
“Look he’s the one that started the issues!” Dean had a knack for sounding like a petulant teen even when he wasn’t really trying. Sam glanced at Officer Higgens who looked less than impressed with Sam’s attempt at parenting. He pressed his lips together as he looked at Dean and thought of how best to handle the situation. Dean saw it as his chance to get into the car, Sam realized what he had to do. Before Dean had taken two steps Sam grabbed him by the upper arm and spun Dean around and laid a half dozen hard smacks to Dean’s backside which caused him to rise to his tiptoes and an attempt to get out of reach. Dean’s eyes watered, Sam’s hand was as hard as their dad’s had been. As soon as Sam stopped his hands flew back to over his bottom.  
Sam bent down so he was eye level with Dean and put his hands on his shoulders, “Apologize,” he ordered.  
Dean took a shuttering breath and looked up at Officer Higgens before dropping his eyes just a bit, “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you tonight.”  
Officer Higgens looked appeased and gave a grunt of approval.  
“Get in the car,” Sam ordered. Dean, now subdued, only nodded and climbed in shotgun.  
“You got yourself a handful right there,” Officer Higgens commented.  
“Fourteen going on forty,” Sam chuckled in agreement before climbing in Baby and starting her up. 

Once the bar and the police car were out of sight Sam looked over at Dean who was staring out the window, a few tears escaped and he quickly wiped them away.  
A few moments later Dean blurted out, “I can’t believe you hit me!”  
“Spanked, Dean. I spanked you.”  
Dean glared at Sam. “I’m 36!”  
“Look I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure what else to do that officer looked like he was about to change his mind about letting you go with that attitude you were giving him, I just figured if he saw I was handling it he’d be satisfied. And it worked… What were you thinking?”  
Dean shrugged but didn’t answer right away as he pouted while they drove.  
“I just wanted a drive Baby for a bit and have a drink,” Dean eventually answered.  
“Yeah well you look 14, Dean, you can’t do that. You can’t drive yet, you can’t drink yet, and you sure as hell can’t flirt with the bartenders.”  
“She was at least 22, that’s totally legal!” Dean tried to defend himself.  
“Not for her, it’s not,” Sam reminded him.  
Dean crossed his arms, “I used to go out all the time when I was this age.”  
Sam sighed, “Yeah and I remember Dad kicking your ass if he found out. Hell, I remember BOBBY kicking your ass the time you went out when we stayed with him…”  
“How did you…”  
“I didn’t sleep as soundly as you or Dad thought..”  
Dean huffed indignantly. Sam pulled into the motel parking lot and he and Dean headed into their room. Dean fell asleep quickly. Sam watched him sleep for a long while as he thought about what to do. If Dean stayed this age he was going to have to act more like the parent, he groaned when he realized he’d probably have to register Dean for school to avoid suspicion. Dean wasn’t going to like that one bit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean arrive home to the Bunker. Someone is already there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Beta read.

Sam returned from his morning run to find Dean using his laptop and eating a McDonalds breakfast sandwich.  
“How’d you get that?” Sam asked sounding a little accusatory.  
“Relax, Sammy. I walked to the one across the street. Here,” Dean tossed Sam the bag that had a second sandwich and hash browns for him, “I found us a case.”  
Sam gave Dean a skeptical look as he unpacked and inspected his sandwich, “I got you that egg white crap you like,” Dean huffed at Sam’s mistrust, “Look its a ghost in Canon City, its barely out of the way, we can get there and back to the bunker in no time.”  
Dean turned the screen towards Sam so he could see for himself. Sam had a bad feeling about this, but he couldn’t see any reason they shouldn’t go check it out.  
After reading it over Sam agreed they could swing by there to deal with the ghost. Dean responded by jumping up in excitement.

In retrospect Sam should have trusted his instincts, the milk run as Dean had claimed it would be, ended up being several very vengeful spirits. It turned out that Dean struggled a little more with the shotgun now that he was a foot smaller and 90 pounds lighter, he didn’t have the physical strength to handle the kickback and one of the spirits knocked him out cold. Sam barely had time to throw Dean over his shoulder and get out of there in one piece. Sam ended up with a bruised rib and sprained wrist, and Dean had a pretty serious headache and bump on his head. The brothers decided that going home to rest up and coming back later with reinforcements would be the best thing to do.

Sam pulled into the garage of the bunker midmorning. He was halfway across the garage before he realized Dean wasn’t next to him, turning and looking back Dean sat frozen in the front seat of the Impala.  
“Dean? You ok?” Sam asked, a little concerned.  
Dean swallowed and looked at his brother, “Dad’s here,” he said in a quiet voice that Sam could barely hear.  
Sam stood up and looked over, sure enough, their fathers truck was parked not far away, “Yeah? You know he comes here once in a while between hunts. What's wrong?”  
“What's wrong? Seriously, Sam? Look at me! How are we going to explain this to Dad?” Dean sounded panicked now. Sam opened his mouth and then closed it again as he realized the dilemma.  
“I’ll just go talk to him first, then when he’s calmed down you can come in,” Sam offered, Dean gave a slight nod, unconvinced that John Winchester’s temper would simmer down when he found out, he climbed out and followed Sam into the bunker.

Sam found John in the kitchen, “Hi Dad. I didn’t expect to see you back, staying long?” Sam asked, making some small talk as he helped himself to a cup of coffee.  
“Just a few days. How’d that thing in Oregon work out? I thought you boys would have been back a couple of days ago.”  
“Oh, it was alright, we got the witch and her helper,” Sam answered as if the whole hunt had gone smoothly.  
If Sam had glanced at Johns’s face he would have known his dad wasn’t buying it.  
“And what about that man that went missing? JP? And why is there a notice three days ago about a woman, Tina, going missing?”  
Sam faltered slightly, “Uh, well we weren’t able to get to JP in time, but we met Tina, she’s ok. There was a bit of an issue though…”  
“Dean!” John barked, “I can hear you, quit lurking and come in here.”  
Dean nervously poked his head into the kitchen before tentatively stepping in.  
“Oh my God,” John almost dropped his cup of coffee as he stared at his now young again son, “Sit down and tell me what the hell happened. Start from the beginning and don’t you dare leave out anything,” John ordered his sons and they quickly complied, both looking anxious as they began talking. It was easier to get it out when they weren’t looking at John’s face as it kept growing darker and soberer as they went on.  
John sat quietly and listened trying not to explode in anger, he was ready to throttle both of them. “This hunt ended four days ago, where have you been since?”  
Sam timidly explained about the unsuccessful hunt in Canon City. A quick glance up to his father’s face and his eyes dropped firmly to the tabletop, his father’s glare was still intimidating, and finally realized why Dean nervously shifted next to him.  
John sat in silence for a few long minutes, “So let me get this straight…” Sam and Dean shared a quick glance, “Sam, you left your brother, who you knew was trying to stay sober, at a BAR, to collect intel.”  
Sam nodded, “Yes, sir.”  
“And Dean you went into the bar, and had how many drinks?”  
“I’m not sure, just a few.”  
“Just a few?” John was unimpressed, “you spent hours at said bar with ‘just a few’ drinks, you got no new intel during all this, then when you left you were buzzed enough to get yourself jumped and kidnapped!”  
Dean wouldn’t have described the situation quite like that, but there wasn’t any point in arguing it either. The Formica tabletop was fascinating.  
“Damn it, Dean, I thought we already covered the ‘never drink on a hunt’ with Lee Webb, or did you forget?”  
“I didn’t forget,” Dean whispered.  
“I’m not so sure, go to your room.”  
“Dad, I’m an adult!” Dean protested  
John raised an eyebrow at his oldest, “You didn’t act like it, and now you don’t look like it. Act like a kid and I’ll treat you like one. Now go to your room, I’ll be there shortly.”  
Dean scampered away as quickly as he could. Sam didn’t even have a moment to realize what happened when John cuffed him over the back of the head.  
“Ow!” Sam reached up and rubbed his head.  
“What the hell were you thinking letting him talk you into that hunt in Canon City? Did you not notice he’s 110 pounds soaking wet? He can’t go around fighting monsters like a grown man anymore.”  
“You took him hunting all the time when he was 14,” Sam argued back.  
John rubbed his face in a tired sort of way, he took a breath realizing he had to explain a few things that Sam must have missed, “Sam, how old were you when you first came hunting?”  
“I don’t know 12 or 13.”  
“Yeah, and what did you DO on those first hunts?”  
“Mostly sat in the car, kept lookout.”  
“Exactly, you didn’t go on your first real hunt till you were 16, almost 17. I may have taken Dean with me at 14 but he sure as hell wasn’t where the real action was, he was there to observe, learn. A 14-year-old kid on a hunt is a liability, you know that.”  
“He’s not really 14, dad.”  
“No, but he might as well be, he doesn’t have the physicality yet,” John looked at his youngest son who was looking very guilty, “It’s done. I’m going to go deal with Dean now. You call that friend of yours, Charlie, see if she can get some school transcripts made up and guardianship paperwork so I can let you be his legal guardian,” John got up and left the room.

John found Dean in his room with headphones on, arms crossed, and a scowl on his face. He might be 36, but he looked the part of a disgruntled teen perfectly. When Dean noticed John he pulled off the headphones and sat up further on the bed.  
“Last time you drank on a hunt, I gave you and Lee a pretty good hiding, remember?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Do you remember what I said would happen if I found out about you doing something so stupid again?”  
“Dad, come on, I”m not some dumb ass kid anymore.”  
John gave him a pointed look.  
“I’m 36, Dad!”  
“That may be, but you sure as hell should have known better. I taught you better. You don’t drink on a hunt, it’s a good way to get yourself or someone else killed. You got real lucky.”  
“Don’t you think being 14 again is enough of a consequence?” Dean was grasping now, he had a bad feeling about what was coming next.  
“I got one in mind that seemed to work, get up, take off the jeans, and bend over the bed,” John ordered as he started to take off his belt.  
Dean tried to plead with his eyes but he never could pull off that puppy dog look that Sam managed to so easily, after a moment’s hesitation he followed orders and found himself in a position he thought he had long outgrown.  
John pulled down Dean’s briefs, much to his son’s dismay, and did not hold back in showing Dean just how displeased he was in his choices. Dean tried to stay calm and take the belting like the man he was, but his 14-year-old exterior wanted no part of it and he found himself a bawling blubbering mess very quickly. John was quick but thorough with his method. When he finished he gently pulled up Dean’s briefs and helped Dean climb back into bed. In a rare moment of affection combed a hand through his son’s short hair and kissed his forehead and encouraged him to take a little rest.

John was just coming out of Dean’s room when Sam rounded the corner, “Dad, Charlie sent over the paper…” he froze when he saw the looped over belt in his dad’s hand. He swallowed and glanced up at his father.  
“Let’s talk in the other room, Dean’s taking a nap,” John ushered Sam back the way he came, “When he gets up, I want you to take him to the store, he needs clothes that fit, make sure to get him a bookbag and some school supplies too. I’m going to register him in the morning at Lebanon High. Here sign this, it grants you guardianship if I’m not here…” John passed one of the papers to Sam, “After I get him signed up I’m headed out, there’s a vamp nest in South Carolina I’m going to go flush out.”  
Sam handed over the paperwork that he signed.  
“And no hunting for him, don’t you let him talk you into it either. If you do and I find out about it, I don’t care if you’re a giant, I will thrash you both.”  
Sam nodded and looked over the counterfeit transcript that Charlie had sent over, he made a couple of notes on a Post-it note and put it on the paperwork before handing it over to his dad.  
“He’s not going to like that.. Any of it.”  
“What am I not going to like?” Dean asked from the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'd you think? I'm open to ideas and suggestions. Please leave a review.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean stood in the doorway in an oversized t-shirt and pajama bottoms that flopped over his feet.   
“I thought you were going to take a nap,” John asked, his voice was deep and gruff but didn’t sound angry.  
“Not tired,” Dean replied through a yawn and rubbed his eyes.   
Sam shook his head and chuckled to himself. Maybe there was more to this de-aging than they thought because adult Dean never turned down a nap.  
John grunted, “Just as well, you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, and you have to be up early tomorrow.”  
“Why, did you find a hunt?” Dean asked eagerly.  
“No, you have school tomorrow. I’ll take you down there and get you registered. Sam can pick you up. He’ll drive you until they get you on a bus.”  
“I have a GED already, I’m done with school. Besides, I can’t go on hunts and school at the same time!” Dean said looking between his Dad and Sam as they exchanged a glance.  
“You don’t have to worry about that because you won’t be going on any hunts for a while,” John replied.  
Dean stared in disbelief, “What?! No, I'm still hunting.”  
“No, you’re not, and that’s final,” John said sternly.  
“This isn’t fair! Sam?” Dean desperately looked to his brother to be on his side.   
Sam gave a look that clearly said “It’s Dad, what do you want me to do?”   
“Maybe Dad’s right, Dean, a little break from hunting might be okay,” Sam tried to appease his brother.  
“No, no! That’s not okay. Hunting is our job. My job! And I’m not going back to school,” Dean almost stomped his foot but stopped himself.  
Standing up quickly, John stared down at his son, Dean tried not to back down but found himself curling away and dropping his eyes anyway, “If you want we can go have another discussion, doesn’t bother me if you can’t sit for a week.”  
“No, sir,” Dean's smarting backside made him answer.  
“Good, now go get dressed, Sam’s going to take you to the store and get some clothes that fit and some school supplies.”  
Dean's stomach rumbled loudly, “Lunch?” he asked hopefully.  
“I’ll get you a happy meal on the way,” Sam offered with a smirk.  
Dean glared at Sam, “I hate you. I hate you so much,” Dean deadpanned before sulking off to change. 

/  
Neither of the boys could remember the last time they went to buy clothes, everyday clothes, not a suit to impersonate the FBI. Dean vaguely remembered buying a shirt two years ago, but he had never gotten more than one or two items at a time. Now Sam was impatiently waiting for him to pick something out.  
“Dean, it’s not that hard, just pick something,” Sam said, clearly annoyed.  
“But there are so many choices, and I don’t even know what size,” Dean’s voice came out in frustration.  
Sighing Sam grabbed a few sizes of jeans and shirts and dragged Dean to the fitting rooms to try them on and figure it out. Once that was determined Sam randomly pulled clothes off the rack and asked if it was a yes or no until Dean had a full week’s worth of clothes.  
Sam held up two backpacks for Dean to choose from.  
“Dude, those are like 30 bucks, there are cheaper ones over there.”  
“Yeah, but they’ll fall apart in a week, trust me, you want the name brand for this,” Sam explained, remembering his college days and knew exactly what would work and what was just a waste of money. Dean didn’t pick so Sam threw the black bag into the cart before turning to the socks and underwear, out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean swap the bag for one with a pattern.  
After getting a new pair of sneakers and some notebooks and pens Sam declared that they were done.  
“Finally! Let’s get outta here,” Dean said as he loaded the bags into Baby and climbed in letting out a hiss when his butt touched the seat.  
Sam shook his head a combination of amusement and pity.

/  
“Up and at ‘em,” John’s voice boomed into Dean’s room as the lights were flicked on. Dean groaned and put his head under his pillow, John left, expecting his now teenage son to get up. It had been a long time since he had dealt with teenagers and he had forgotten just how much sleep they needed.   
20 minutes later John pounded once on the door, “Leaving in 10, Dean.”  
Dean woke with a start from the noise and rushed to get up, only to fall over as his legs were tangled up in the blanket. It was fortunate that Dean had years of experience getting ready quickly. 15 minutes later he was showered, dressed, and climbing into the truck with a travel mug of coffee and a package of pop-tarts. He mumbled his apologies to John, who merely grunted in disapproval at being held up. 

The high school was a lot like all the others Dean had been to, he wasn’t sure how many high schools he attended before dropping out, but this time was different. For one, he actually felt nervous, usually, it had been Sam that was anxiety-riddled going to yet another new school, it had never bothered Dean before. This time though, he had a feeling that unless he got to be big again, he was going to be stuck at this school for a while, and kids today seemed so different. John didn’t seem to notice anything as he walked in with Dean following behind trying to exude confidence he didn’t feel.  
The pair were directed to an office off of the main hall and were greeted by the school guidance counselor, a petite woman with very curly short hair named Mrs. Adams, who told them to have a seat after the round of pleasantries was exchanged.  
John gave the woman the paperwork Charlie had created, and Mrs. Adams handed John some forms to look over and fill out.   
“Dean, here’s a list of 9th-grade electives, please pick one,” Mrs. Adams said kindly as she handed him a list before looking over the transcript.   
“Almost done. Here’s a map of the school, not that you really should need one, it's a small building. And here is a list of sports, we’re already in the middle of the winter season but the spring tryout dates are listed there if you are interested and the list of clubs and other extracurriculars is on the back. We should have you on the bus route by Monday next week. Any questions so far?”  
Dean shook his head. Mrs. Adams handed him a new chrome book that he shoved in his backpack, and a minute later his schedule and locker information. She handed John some paperwork explaining it was the information to log into the school portal to check grades and assignments and communicate with teachers.  
As Dean and John left the office John turned to his son, “Be good, don’t give your brother too hard of a time. I’m headed to South Carolina for a bit, Sam will pick you up,” And with that John strode out of the building leaving Dean in the middle of the hall with his bookbag and new class schedule feeling very out of place.

/  
Dean stood in the hall trying to get his bearings and determine where his class was when the bell rang. With all high schools around the country for the last 70 years, the halls were instantly flooded with kids. The volume went from quiet to deafening and within a few minutes went silent again with one kid who had taken too long slamming his locker shut and running down the hall to his next class. Dean took a breath and walked down the hall looking for room 109. 

Eventually, Dean found his math class and went through the new student ritual of “Class this is Dean, let's make him feel welcome.” And the stares as he found an empty seat. 

Lunch was also awkward, Dean ended up sitting alone, but consoled himself with the fact that this time around he actually was able to eat. The school district supplied free lunches to every student regardless of income so there was none of that pesky paperwork to qualify for free lunches, or odd looks when he sat at the table without one at all.

The one class Dean was looking forward to was right after lunch, it took him a while to find the room so he entered a couple of minutes late.  
“Sorry, had a hard time finding the room,” he apologized when the teacher gave him a slightly displeased look. She nodded and directed him to the open seat while she continued explaining the day's project then let them set off on their own.   
Dean looked around the class, there were 16 students seated in groups of 2. He was seated with the only other boy in the class.  
They pulled out the things they’d need when the boy next to him turned to him. “Hi, I’m Benny.”  
“Dean.”  
“Did you just move here?”  
Dean nodded, no point in explaining he’d been in Lebanon for 2 years already.  
“My family is from Louisiana, we just moved here this summer,” Benny said, “Stop! That's salt you want sugar.”  
Dean looked down at the box where he had poured out a full cup of salt from, Dean looked up sheepishly at Benny, “Thanks.”  
“Anytime, brotha. Us newbs need to stick together, especially in this class,” Benny smiled while glancing around at all the girls who were completely ignoring the two boys in the corner of the room.

/  
Sam pulled up to the parent pick up lot at the high school at 2:30, he parked in the back away from the other cars. Dean was frustrated enough not being able to drive Baby, he would have a fit if another car dinged her. A few minutes later Sam could see the swarm of kids leaving the building, most headed to the line of buses in the front and a smaller cluster headed to the parking lots, most looked like seniors, old enough to drive themselves. Sam watched as Dean spotted Baby and headed towards her pulling his jacket closed in the cold winter wind. Opening the door he climbed in and slammed the door shut behind him looking thoroughly miserable. He crossed his arms and slumped down in the seat.   
Sam was bursting with curiosity, “Well? How did your day go?”  
Dean shrugged, “There was one kid who seemed decent. And they put me in honors English and History!” Dean threw up his hands in annoyance.  
Sam tried to hide a smirk.  
Dean studied his brother, “Did you have something to do with that?... You did, didn’t you?... Ugh, what the hell?!”  
“Dean, you’re smart enough to handle those classes and now that we’re not moving around all the time and you don’t have to take care of me, you should have something to challenge you a little. After all, you are 36,” Sam reminded him.  
“I hate you.”  
“Yeah, I know. Got any homework?”  
“Shut up, Sam,” Dean sulked and stared out the window as Sam headed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your comments. It really motivates me to keep writing so I appreciate them very much. I do apologize that there's no CP in this chapter, but I felt Dean needed a little time to heal up. Not every chapter will have it, but I'll try to throw in a decent amount without it ending up straight abuse.  
> I don't have a plot for this so I'm open to suggestions on situations and things to happen to the boys. If there are any characters you think would be good for various things let me know. For example, I just adore Benny, so since this is AU I've decided to throw him back into high school so Dean can have a friend. While I left Charlie to be similar to her canon character.


	4. Chapter 4

Day two is always a little easier. Dean knew where he was going and kids in his class weren’t staring at him as if he had three heads. And of course, it was one day closer to the weekend. Today was also gym class and Dean was looking forward to, hopefully, some dodgeball. It had been a good thing that Sam had grabbed some athletic shorts and shirts when they went shopping.   
Dean found the locker room and began to change.  
“Whoa, your old man do that?”   
Startled, Dean looked over his shoulder at Benny.  
“What the hell? You checking out my ass?”  
Benny put up his hands, “I wasn’t looking, I just saw. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you.”   
Benny turned towards his locker and started to change. Dean looked behind him to see the deep bruises that had started to show. It had been a long time since John had kicked his ass and he had forgotten that day two after a whipping was when the marks started being more visible, it would have been hard for anyone to miss. He pulled up his shorts as quickly as he could.  
“What’d he get you for?” Benny asked.  
“Drinking,” Dean said.  
“Ooof. You a big drinker?”  
“I’m trying to cut back,” Dean deadpanned.  
“My old man said he’d kick my ass if he ever caught me drinking,” Benny said.  
“So you don’t drink?”   
“I don’t get caught,” Benny winked back.  
“Boys! Hustle up, it does not take this long to change!” the coach called from the doorway, he mumbled something under his breath about boys these days taking longer to change than the girls.   
“One mile. That's sixteen laps in the gym. This is a run, not a stroll, I don’t want to see anyone walking!”   
Dean groaned, running was Sam’s thing, not his.  
“I don’t suppose you want to risk another butt-kicking any time soon, but there’s a party this weekend,” Benny casually mentioned as soon as he caught his breath after the run.  
Dean considered for a moment, “I’ll have to see if I can get out. Dad’s out of town, but my brother is home.”

/  
Sam wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and it had only been two days since Dean had started school. The bunker felt cold and empty without his lively older-little brother. After a quick grocery run and doing a few loads of laundry Sam pulled out his laptop. He found an email from Garth about a hunt about a day away. Dad had been clear that Dean was not to go on any hunts, but he hadn’t said anything about Sam not going. Sam replied letting Garth know he could leave the following day. After all, Dean was 36, he could stay home and hold down the bunker for the weekend, and even if Sam wasn’t back by Monday, the bus would be there to get him to and from school. He quickly responded to Garth to let him know he would help out but he would be alone. Glancing at the clock Sam realized it was time to pick up Dean. 

Surprisingly, Dean was not looking miserable when he came out and climbed into Baby.   
“Good day?”  
“It was ok,” Dean admitted.   
Sam headed home, he looked over at Dean who was drumming away to the song on the radio, “So, listen. I got an email from Garth, he was asking if I could help out in a case in Omaha this weekend.”  
“He asked you or us?”  
“Well technically us, but Dad said you can’t go on hunts right now,” Sam answered.  
Dean huffed and then squirmed in his seat, “Yeah I know. Fine, just be careful, Sammy.”  
“Always am. I’ll leave after I pick you up from school tomorrow.”  
“Nah, I’ll just go home with Benny, we have a project to work on.”  
Sam nodded, it seemed like a reasonable solution, but Sam’s spidey senses were tingling, that was too easy. He expected Dean to put up more of a fight.

/  
The next day Dean rode the bus home with Benny, he couldn’t believe his luck that Sam had wanted to leave him home alone the same weekend as a party. It had been a long week, being 14 again was no joke, he’d forgotten how stressful adolescence was and he was looking forward to just sitting back, having some drinks, and maybe flirting with some of the cute girls he’d seen at school.   
The bus dropped the boys off at the corner and they walked a short distance to Benny’s house. They dropped their bags on his bed then raided the kitchen for food before settling in in front of the TV to play video games. Dean couldn’t remember if he’d ever been able to hang out with a friend after school. He always had to pick up Sam or go to work.   
A few hours later the roar of a loud engine pulled in the driveway and Mr. Lafitte came into the house, he looked tired and a bit grumpy and pulled a beer from the fridge before heading to the living room. The man looked down at the boys.  
“Benny, who’s this then?”  
“Oh Dad, this is my friend Dean, he and his family just moved here. Dean, my dad, Mr. Lafitte. I hope it's ok he came over for dinner?” Benny asked a little anxiously.  
The man grunted in some sort of affirmative, then gestured to the boys to make themselves scarce.  
“Come on,” Benny said in a low voice as he got up from the couch, Dean followed Benny to his room. It wasn’t long before Benny’s mom knocked on the door, she was wearing the uniform for the nearby diner and was getting ready to leave for her shift.  
“Dinner’s on the stove, make sure you clean up after yourself,” she looked over at Dean, “It’s Dean, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
“It’s nice to meet you,” Mrs. Lafitte said before headed out.  
Benny was out the door with Dean close on his heels to find meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and peas with carrots for dinner. The boys served themselves, and Benny dished up a plate and brought it to his dad before sitting at the counter with Dean.  
Dean groaned around a mouthful, “this is so good!”  
Benny chuckled, “this is nothing, my mom makes the best jambalaya. What do you normally have?”  
“Usually something that was frozen, or takeout. We used to eat a lot of mac and cheese and peanut butter sandwiches, cereal sometimes too.”  
Benny looked at Dean with what might be pity before Dean noticed he looked back at his plate and shoveled the rest in his mouth, then took his and Dean’s plates to the sink and washed up and put the leftovers in the refrigerator.   
The boys headed back to Benny’s room to hang out until the party that night.   
“Is your dad ok with you going?” Dean asked.  
Benny shrugged, “My old man will leave for the bar soon enough, and then he won’t give a shit what I do.”

Benny was right and soon enough Mr. Lafitte shouted that he was going out and left. Dean followed Benny out the back door, the boys headed in the opposite direction and met up with one of Benny’s other friends who had a truck (or, had access to a truck) they climbed in the flatbed along with a few other kids and headed a couple of miles out of town to a house that seemed to be in the middle of a wheat field. The group headed out back where there were a fire and dozens of other kids. Someone handed Dean a drink and Benny started introductions as they mingled with different groups. 

The music was loud, the beer was shit, and Dean was having one of the best times he had in a while. He somehow managed to find a seat near the fire with a cutie named Bela sitting on his lap sideways. They hadn’t quite gotten to the making out part yet, but they were enjoying talking with each other and those nearby. Dean was having such a good time, and a slight state of tipsy that he didn’t notice the voices around him quiet, he had only been looking at Bela. When she looked away briefly and then her eyes drifted up, and up, and up, and her mouth dropped open a little bit then Dean realized how quiet everyone had gotten, he looked up. Dean gently shifted Bela off of his lap, handed his cup to the kid next to him, and did his best to put on a cocky attitude.  
“Sam,” Dean said, hiding the fact that he was surprised, he tried to ignore the pissed off bitch face his brother was giving him.  
Someone nearby whispered “Oh shit” but because they were drunk everyone heard it.  
“Get up, you're leaving,” Sam ordered.  
“What? No!” Dean argued back, clearly not being used to being given orders.   
Sam narrowed his eyes, he reached down, grabbed Dean by the upper arm, and hauled him to his feet before heading towards the car. Struggling to get free was useless, Sam had an iron grip on his arm and all he could do was try to keep up on his tiptoes because he was unfortunate enough to have a bother the size of a moose.  
Sam not so gently pushed Dean towards the car.  
“Ow,” Dean whined as he rubbed his arm, “that hurt!”  
“What the hell are you doing here? You didn’t say anything about a party, you said you were going to Benny’s.”  
“I went to Benny’s, then we came here. Who cares, I’m old enough to make my own choices!”  
Sam snorted.  
“Why are you here anyway, I thought you were going on a hunt with Garth?”  
“Garth called it off, he said he had some new intel and needed more time for research.”  
Sam began to drive home.  
“Uh Sam,” Dean began cautiously, “I left my backpack at Benny’s.”  
Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter, “We can pick it up tomorrow.”

When the boys got back to the bunker Sam ordered his brother to bed.  
“I’m going to bed cause I’m tired, not because you told me to,” Dean said before giving his brother a face and stomping away.  
Sam looked for the Tylenol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, poor Sam, what's he going to do?   
> \- I'm open to ideas.
> 
> As always I'm open to ideas or suggestions, thanks for reading. Please let me know what you thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam looked up when Dean stumbled into the kitchen Saturday morning. His hair was ruffled and his green eyes still bleary. Dean was stepping on the bottom of the pajamas and Sam realized they should have bought some when they went shopping.  
"Sam, coffee," Dean demanded as he plopped down onto one of the chairs.  
Sam placed a glass of milk in front of his brother.  
Dean looked at it then glared up at Sam, "What the hell is this? I said coffee. You don't mess with a man and his coffee."  
"Coffee isn't really good for teens," Sam tried to explain.  
"Sam, give me my damn coffee," Dean was in no mood for this conversation. Sam huffed and poured his brother a cup and set it down. Placated, Dean picked it up, took a sniff, and then took a sip, then promptly made a face.  
"God Sam, did you do something different with it? It tastes awful. It's so bitter," Dean stuck out his tongue in disgust.  
"I made it the same way we always do. Maybe your taste buds don't appreciate it anymore."  
Dean grabbed the sugar from the table and began liberally pouring it in his cup, then grabbed his glass of milk and poured some of that in before stirring. He took a sip and seemed to conclude that it was an improvement.  
"Maybe try the milk," Sam suggested.  
Reluctantly Dean took a sip, then proceeded to chug the rest of the glass, "We got any more?"  
"Uh, yeah, just a sec," Sam said and grabbed the carton from the refrigerator. Dean promptly downed a second glass. "Okay, I guess you like milk again, I better add a few more gallons to the shopping next time."  
Sam plated up breakfast and returned to the table. Dean glanced at the meal and then back up to Sam.  
"Seriously? Egg white omelets and fruit? Where's the bacon?"  
"This is good for you, and I didn't buy bacon."  
Dean let his fork drop in agitated disbelief. He shook his head slightly, utter disappointment written all over his face.  
"Just eat it," Sam said and Dean picked up his fork again although he made it known he was not happy with the offerings.  
"We need to talk about last night," Sam started.  
"No, we don't," Dean replied with a mouthful of eggs.  
"Yeah, we do, Dean. You lied to me."  
"I'm…"  
"36, yeah, I know. But you LOOK 14. And honestly, you're kind of acting like it too. Dad would have busted your ass, probably right on the spot."  
Dean looked up a little worried, "You're not gonna.."  
"No, I have no intention of beating your ass, doesn't mean I won't, but I'm not dad and it feels weird thinking about it. So instead, you're grounded."  
"WHAT?"  
"One week, Dean. No going out with friends and I took away your PS4 and phone last night. I also made up a list of chores for you to do this week," Sam slid a piece of paper with the list on it towards Dean.  
Dean glanced at the list, "I'm not doing all that."  
"Well, I guess I could revert to dad's methods, kick your ass and then still make you do this all. And dad should be back by next weekend, I could just let him know what happened," Sam shrugged as he put a piece of fruit in his mouth.  
Dean scowled, "Fine, I'll do the stupid chores."  
"Good, I'll stop by Benny's later today and get your backpack."  
/  
Dean looked at the list of chores Sam had made up. He rolled his eyes when he read Clean your room, including washing your sheets. It was something he knew he needed to do anyway, he just didn't like being forced to do it, and his standard of clean and Sam's was vastly different.  
He looked at the next item Wash the Impala Ok so that one wasn't too bad, but Dean also liked to take his time taking care of his Baby, maybe it would be better to save that one for later, something to look forward to since he actually LIKED that job.  
Mop - Everything, well shit that would take a while, the bunker was huge.  
Dust Library  
None of these were quick jobs, each was going to take several hours. Dean decided to start with the library.  
Dean dropped his bucket of cleaning supplies on the floor and looked at the daunting task in front of him, the Men of Letters library was huge, with many large built-in bookshelves as well as additional bookcases, and countless artifacts, and they all collected dust. Dean grabbed the duster with a long handle and began at one end. He and Sam had never bothered to dust the room, and unless it was a book they needed everything had a not so thin layer of dust on it. They had often talked about just getting it done, but it had never panned out. Being shorter than his adult self Dean realized that the top shelf of the bookcases was beyond his reach. Almost anyone else would have grabbed a step stool or sturdy chair but Dean wasn't going to get to that level, placing his foot on the bottom shelf he started to climb up the shelves until he was able to get to the top to dust.  
Things were going fine for a bit until one of the shelves wasn't as sturdy, there was a crack, a shift which caused Dean to lose his grip on the shelf he was holding on to, and then the entire bookcase and Dean came crashing down.  
"Oh my, dear, are you alright?" An older female voice asked sweetly.  
Dean looked up at the sound only to find an imposing woman standing in front of him. Dean blinked a few times and squinted at her.  
"Who the hell are you?" he asked.  
The woman looked shocked, "Language!" she scolded. Dean was taken aback and stared at the woman taking in her full appearance. She was older, at least 60 with reddish hair, she wore a smart brown jacket and tweed skirt. The woman looked back at Dean studying him disapprovingly as well.  
"Are you an apprentice?"  
"What?"  
"You do seem too young for it though. Why are you here, boy? Where is your father?"  
"SAMMY!" Dean called out.  
Sam came running into the room when he heard Dean's shout.  
"Dean!" Sam said concerned then froze when he saw the woman in the room, "What's going on?"  
"I… I don't know, I was dusting and then shit happened," Dean gestured towards the broken bookcase  
"Young man, Language!" the woman said sharply.  
Dean looked at her with frustration, "and then SHE showed up."  
Sam looked from Dean to the mess to the woman, "Sorry, WHO are you?"  
The woman looked between the two standing in front of her, "I go by Mrs. Butters."  
"How did you get here?" Sam asked.  
So Mrs. Butters explained that she was a wood nymph and had worked for the Men of Letters since the early 1930s but had stowed herself away in a box made of the wood from the trees of her wood when the men had disappeared in the mid-1950s. Mrs. Butters seemed distressed at the idea of going elsewhere, this was her home, she had insisted. She explained that she helped with cleaning and cooking.  
After conferencing for a few minutes Sam and Dean decided to let her stay, not that they were sure how to get rid of her if they wanted to.  
"Don't think this gets you out of that list of chores," Sam hissed in Dean's ear as they gave Mrs. Butters their best false smiles and welcomed her as they explained that they were brothers and not father and son as was generally assumed.  
Mrs. Butters seemed disapproving of a teenager being in the bunker, but she didn't voice her objection as she grabbed the duster and attempted to start work on the library.  
Sam apologetically took the duster from her thrusting it into Dean's hands and said that Dean was taking care of the dusting today.  
Dean made a face at Sam, but then plastered on a sweet smile for Mrs. Butters when she looked at him.  
"Well I'll go take a look at the kitchen, if it's in the same state like this it needs a good scrub down and disinfecting before I start on dinner," with that, Mrs. Butters saw herself off to the kitchen.  
"Are you going to be ok while I head over to Benny's to grab your backpack?" Sam asked with a worried glance to the kitchen.  
"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean grumbled, turning back to the dusting.  
/  
"Dinner," Mrs. Butters called out.  
Dean's stomach gave a loud grumble, the timing couldn't have been better, he had just finished cleaning the library and putting away the supplies. He rushed towards the kitchen where the delicious smells were wafting out into the hallway. Sam got to the doorway at the same time and the brother jostled to get into the kitchen first. Dean gave Sam a quick elbow to the ribs and got to the table first giving Sam a smirk.  
"Boys," Mrs. Butters scolded lightly, "wash up."  
Sam, who hadn't gotten to the table yet now had the advantage of getting to the sink first and took his time to thoroughly wash his hands while Dean was forced to wait impatiently.  
"Alright alright, you're done," Dean said, nudging Sam aside to get to the sink.  
Mrs. Butters had dished up and served the food by the time Dean made it back to the table. There were homemade macaroni and cheese (made with real cheese!), flavorful baked chicken, and something green that Dean didn't recognize. He cautiously speared it with his fork and frowned slightly not sure what to make of the strange new vegetable.  
"What's this?"  
"It's a brussel sprout, Dean, they're good," Sam explained as he put several in his mouth.  
Dean sniffed it before putting the piece in his mouth and chewing, then he made a face and gagged slightly before finally choking it down. He grabbed his glass of milk and gulped it down to rid his mouth of the offending taste.  
"Really!" Mrs. Butters tsked at Dean, "You finish that up before you're excused. They're good for you." The woman flicked her fingers and Dean felt an odd sensation, he tried to shift in his seat and found that he was firmly stuck to the chair with what could be best described as 'magical glue'. Dean rightly guessed that he would be stuck, literally, until he cleared his plate.  
Sam smirked at Dean and took another mouthful of brussel sprouts, Dean pouted and propped his head on his hand. He focused on the mac and cheese and chicken, occasionally scowling at the offending vegetable.  
A timer went off and Mrs. Butters quickly stood up, "That'll be the dessert," she exclaimed as she headed to the oven.  
"Sam," Dean hissed, "please," he looked pleadingly at his brother and motioned towards his plate.  
Sam pressed his lips together before feeling a little sympathy and forked a few sprouts from Dean's plate and popped them in his mouth.  
"Samuel, there are more in the pan if you want them. Dean's food is for him to eat," Mrs. Butters chided as she came back to the table. Sam ducked his head apologetically. "Dean, there's a pie for dessert if you finish."  
Dean looked ready to cry as he tried to choke down another sprout with the promise of pie.  
/  
Dean sat at the table, alone. Sam had long ago finished his dinner - and dessert - and been excused. Mrs. Butters also had finished and cleaned the whole kitchen before going off somewhere else. Dean had tried, really he had, but even the promise of pie to look forward to couldn't help him get down the nasty brussel sprouts. He had tried shoving them in his pocket so they were off his plate, but that didn't release the magic and when Mrs. Butters had come over she shook her head, flicked her fingers, and the hidden sprouts returned to his plate, good as new. The pie sat tantalizingly out of reach on the counter.  
"You should have eaten them when they were hot, they're good then," Sam casually said as he wandered into the kitchen.  
Dean stuck out his bottom lip, "They're gross, Sammy."  
Sam rolled his eyes and left.  
Hours later, Mrs. Butters returned to the kitchen, gave a disappointed look to Dean and his still not empty plate before letting him go to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think of Mrs. Butters? Should we keep her or let her go back to her woods? Please keep the comments and suggestions coming.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you for so many good ideas! I now have the problem of trying to decide which ones I can use and how and where to take this story since some ideas are pulling my muse in different directions.

Sam was enjoying his Sunday morning cup of coffee with the news pulled up on his tablet. He’d already gone for a run and taken his shower before a rumpled boy with dirty blond hair and glazed over green eyes shuffled into the kitchen. Sam glanced at Dean as he headed for the refrigerator, something looked different but Sam couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Dean searched around and pulled out last night's plate of pie with a dopey grin. 

“Young man! What are you doing? Pie is hardly a healthy breakfast,” Mrs. Butters appeared seemingly out of nowhere to take the plate out of Dean’s hands.  
Dean whimpered as his beloved pie was taken away, “but its fruit,” he tried pitifully.  
“And sugar. Sit, I’ve got some breakfast right here,” Mrs. Butters said while putting the pie back.   
Dean sat down with a huff but perked up when a plate of french toast, eggs, BACON!, and strawberries was put in front of him along with a glass of milk.  
“I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I hemmed those pajama bottoms for you, they were a foot too long.”  
Sam realized that's what was different when Dean had come in, his clothes fit.  
“Thanks,” said Dean with a mouthful of his breakfast. Sam made a face at Dean’s lack of manners.  
“You know, I was doing the laundry and I have to say, Sam, I’m surprised at how few clothes Dean has that fit him, your hand-me-downs are fine normally but he shouldn’t have to wait five years to grow into them. And really, haven’t you ever taught him how to fold his clothes properly? Your room is so organized so you clearly know-how,” Mrs. Butters scolded. Dean smirked, glad for once that it was Sam who was getting told off instead of him, even if it wasn’t Sam’s fault. But Mrs. Butters didn’t need to know that.  
Sam opened his mouth to argue but instead conceded sheepishly then glared at Dean when Mrs. Butters turned away. Dean smirked around a mouth full of french toast and eggs.

“Oh my, you hardly have anything suitable to wear,” Mrs. Butters said mostly to herself as she looked through all of Dean’s clothes. Most of them being what he wore when he was adult-sized, the only things that fit now were the few things that he and Sam had gotten earlier in the week. “No this won’t do at all.”  
Mrs. Butters left the room quickly and returned with several large storage containers and began to shift the clothing into the bins.  
“What are you doing?” asked Dean, a little freaked out when he saw his favorite Led Zeppelin shirt being put into the storage container.  
“Well these are all too large for you, we’ll put them out of the way until you grow into them,” Mrs. Butters said simply. “Oh and look at this one, it has holes in the armpits, I can’t believe Sam didn’t just toss this one out, it’s not fit to be worn. One’s like this we’ll just toss out.”  
Dean looked at the shirt, it was one of his favorites, he’d had it for almost 20 years, “Like hell we will, that's my favorite!” Dean grabbed the shirt out of the toss pile along with another favorite, balled them up, and tossed them in the back of his closet.  
He turned around to see a very cross Mrs. Butters with her hands on her hips, “Young man, I’ve given you several warnings about your language. I’ve had enough, you will not use language like that.”  
Mrs. Butters advanced towards Dean and he nervously backed away until his back hit the corner of his room, he wasn’t sure what to expect from this still unknown wood nymph. If she were human he could probably outrun her, but as she was a magical being he quickly found himself trapped to the spot and unable to getaway. Mrs. Butters reached into her apron pocket and what had appeared to be empty before suddenly wasn’t and she pulled out something small and yellowish in color. She held it up towards Dean’s face and ordered him to open. Dean eyed what he now recognized as a pale yellow bar of soap, he shook his head and clamped his mouth shut. It didn’t do him any good though when Mrs. Butters squeezed his cheeks and pried his jaw open enough to set the soap halfway into his mouth. Dean hastily tried to spit it out but found his jaw unable to move.  
“Now into the corner with you to think about why you’re in this position,” she said almost too sweetly. Dean felt himself being turned against his will and what was now a very boring corner and an awful tasting bar of soap in his mouth to focus on. This was beyond embarrassing, he was just glad Sam wasn’t around.

“Hey Dean, was there anything you wanted from the store?” Sam asked, striding into Dean’s room, he looked at Mrs. Butters, “oh I’m sorry, I thought Dean was in here with you.”  
Mrs. Butters pointed towards the corner, “Dean needed to take a little time out for a few minutes,” she explained when Sam looked back at her questioningly.  
A small dinging noise was heard, Mrs. Butters walked over to Dean and took the soap from him, “We’re not going to have to repeat this, are we?” she asked. Dean quickly shook his head.   
“Ok, go rinse.”   
Dean rushed to the nearby sink and quickly swished water in his mouth to get rid of the awful taste.   
Sam watched the scene unfold, “Did you just put soap in his mouth?” he asked with disbelief.  
“Yes, I did. And I believe it will be quite effective in curing his foul language habit,” Mrs. Butters said without a hint of remorse.   
“We need to talk, Sammy,” Dean hissed as he pushed Sam out of his room into the hallway.  
Sam allowed himself to be ushered out of the room then turned to face his brother, “You’re not going to just let her do that to me, are you!”  
Sam looked from his brother to Mrs. Butters tidying up the bedroom.  
“Sam!” Dean said and smacked his brother's arm.  
“I don’t know what am I supposed to do about it,” Sam retorted looking completely helpless at the whole situation.  
“Seriously? This is just fudging ridiculous,” Dean said angrily, Sam gave him an odd look. “What?”  
“You said ‘fudging’ instead of the other word,” Sam said in a quiet voice to not be overheard.  
“What? No, I didn't. I said ‘it's just fudging ridiculous’... Son of a beehive!” Dean said in frustration, “What the heck! I can’t swear! Sam!” Dean was panicked now.  
Sam was laughing, trying as much as he could Dean couldn’t get a single curse word out of his mouth, and despite the threat of another mouth soaping, he was very distressed over this fact.  
“What did you do to me?!” Dean demanded of Mrs. Butters.  
“Oh,” the woman looked up, “cursing is such a habit for you that you wouldn’t be able to stop and it wouldn’t be fair to correct you every time, my special soap will keep you from using foul language for two or three days before it wears off. Hopefully, it won’t need any reapplication after that, but I’ve never had to use it more than 3 times on anyone. Mr. Douglas, he was one of the men of letters here years ago, cursed like a sailor, but after a few doses of my soap he cleaned right up,” Mrs. Butters said proudly.   
Dean threw his hands up in frustration and looked at Sam for help.   
Sam shrugged, “you do swear a lot,” he said unhelpfully.   
“Thanks a lot, Sammy, for all your help,” Dean dripped with sarcasm before stomping off to pout in the garage with Baby.

/  
"Your old man didn't bust your ass cause of the party did he?" Benny asked on Monday when the boys saw each other, "I tried texting you."  
Dean shook his head, "Grounded for the week. No phone and a list of chores. At least a butt-kicking would have been over and done with."  
Benny nodded in agreement. No one wanted to get belted, but at least it got out of the way faster than the punishments that just dragged out.   
The boys headed down the crowded hall towards the stairs when Dean felt yanked back by his backpack and slammed headfirst into the lockers.  
"Outta the way dipshit," an older boy with a nasal voice said as he walked past with a couple of his friends. Benny, who was a little stockier than Dean had only gotten pushed aside and helped steady his friend.   
Dean rubbed his head and called after the boys, "Rooster-sucker!"  
Then grimaced, it wasn't quite the retort he had planned on, but the stupid no-cursing spell had twisted what he wanted to say. The boys turned and looked at him and laughed, "You watch yourself," they threatened.   
Benny looked at him, "Rooster sucker? Maybe you should go to the nurse, you must have really knocked your head."  
Dean flushed, "I'm fine," he mumbled and pushed his way past the other students laughing at his embarrassing attempt at a comeback.

/  
As the week progressed Dean was getting used to Mrs. Butters living with them, although he wasn’t quite happy about the changes. For some reason, Sam seemed to adapt faster, then again, other than his hair he wasn’t being fussed over nearly as much.   
“Sam it's not fair, she’s constantly telling me to do something or not do something,” Dean whined one afternoon.  
Sam looked at his brother over the book he was reading, “Dean asking you to eat your vegetables is not an unusual expectation.”  
“It’s not just the vegetables,” Dean groused.  
“Putting away your clean laundry neatly is also not a strange request, Dean,” Sam said without looking up this time.  
“But…”  
“And many people go through life without swearing in every sentence, you’ll just have to get used to it.”  
Dean huffed, “You didn’t see what she wants me to wear to school tomorrow!”   
Sam looked up in confusion.   
“I’ll look like a geek. I’ll get beat up!”   
“Ok show me,” Sam sighed and put down his book. He followed Dean into his bedroom where Mrs. Butters had hung up a shirt, tie, sweater vest, and slacks. Sam looked to his brother for an explanation.  
“It's picture day tomorrow and she said something about looking presentable and not like a ‘hoodlum’ I can’t wear that!” Dean was starting to panic.

“I don’t see what the issue is, Samuel, he’ll look quite dapper,” Mrs. Butters was unyielding when Sam found her in the kitchen to talk the matter over with her.  
“But Dean, isn’t dapper, and kids today don’t dress that way,” Sam tried to explain.  
“Yes, most unfortunate, I’ve seen some of the outfits they have now,’ Mrs. Butters said disapprovingly.  
Sam realized he was going to have to man up this time or Dean might never forgive him, “I’ll tell him to take a shower tonight and do his hair in the morning and put on something clean, but he can wear what he wants to school. He’s my brother and this is my decision,” Sam said firmly and quickly left before the shocked Mrs. Butters could respond.   
Dean, who had been listening from the hallway, jumped for joy when he realized that Sam had at least stuck up for him on this, even if it did mean he had to take a shower that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought.   
> Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

After Sam had stood up for Dean about the school pictures he thought he’d be in the clear to wear his torn-up jeans and a t-shirt that Sam okayed (nothing with holes or stains). Mrs. Butters would not be so easily thwarted though and by the following morning, she was dragging him back to his room to put on something “respectable” Sam was nowhere to be found to save him. When he emerged from his room, miserable at the horrible outfit Mrs. Butters attacked his hair with a brush to tame it.

“Brother, what are you wearing?” Benny asked when Dean climbed on the bus.  
“I don't want to talk about it,” Dean grumbled as he pulled off the sweater vest and shoved it into his backpack. He pulled on his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt then ran his hands through his hair to give it a disheveled appearance, he then rolled up the sleeves and untucked the shirt before sitting back with a sigh. Mrs. Butters might make him wear the clothes, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of looking respectable.  
/

While life in the bunker continued in a new weird way, school was very much the same as Dean had remembered. There were the smart kids, and the jocks, band geeks, loners, bullies, victims, and a handful that kind of fit in everywhere. It didn’t take Dean long to figure out who to avoid at all costs, one kid in particular that went by Al, Dean found it best to about-face, take an alternate route, and risk being late for class rather than deal with the fair upperclassmen that had a sadistic streak a mile long.  
There was also Gordon Walker, who held on to a grudge until he felt sufficiently vindicated. Dean’s first encounter with Gordon was after lunch one day when Dean needed to go to the bathroom, he walked in to find Gordan roughing up a scrawny pimple-faced kid named Alfie.  
“Hey! Leave him alone!” Dean yelled out, grabbing Gordon and pulling him off of the kid.  
Gordon didn’t like being interrupted, “Mind your own business, Winchester,” Gordon shoved Dean off of him and turned back to Alfie. Dean stumbled back but recovered quickly to keep Gordon from whaling on the other kid.  
“Get out of here,” Dean ordered and Alfie needed no further convincing as he ran out of the bathroom. Gordon charged Dean slamming him back against the wall. Dean grunted as the wind was knocked out of him, as he tried to push the kid off of him Gordan took a swing and got Dean on the side of the face.  
“Oh it's on,” Dean promised as he took the offensive and began to fight back. The fight was evenly matched and Dean took as many hits as he dished out before he and Gordon were forcefully pulled apart.  
“Now what’s going on here?” a deep voice said while its owner gave Dean a shake since Dean was still attempting to go after Gordon.  
“Nothing, Mr. Crowley, we were just having a little talk,” Gordon answered while staring down Dean.  
“Ah yes, I can see that, although talks usually have more words and fewer fists. Come on let's go see Mr. Adler,” the short teacher said as he dragged Dean along with him while Gordan struggled with a teacher that Dean wasn’t familiar with.

/  
Dean and Gordon glared at each other from where they sat in Mrs. Tran’s office while Mr. Crowley told Mr. Adler what had happened. Mr. Adler was uninterested in why Dean had stepped in, or that Gordon had been assaulting Alfie, but he did seem delighted to assert his authority in whatever way he could over the two teens.  
“Mr. Walker, my office if you would please,” Mr. Adler said with false politeness and for the first time Gordan’s eyes held a flicker of fear and hesitation, it was enough of a delay for Mr. Adler to haul the boy to his feet and give a little push towards his attached office.

/  
Dean sat in the plastic chair in the front office, his knee bounced nervously up and down and he nibbled on his nails.  
And then he heard it, the thwack sound of Gordon getting whacked with a paddle followed by a sob or groan, over and over, Dean counted in his head… ten.  
“Mrs. Tran, doesn’t my dad have to approve of corporal punishment?” Dean asked hoping that his dad hadn’t signed the slip. In the past he usually did, not wanting to be bothered with a call from the school if Dean needed to be kept in line, but circumstances being different now he was hoping it might have changed.  
“I’m sorry, Dean, but he did.”  
“Can I call my brother?”  
“Dean, your father is the primary. Even if your brother wanted to go against it he’s the secondary guardian and can’t override your father’s permission. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Tran said sympathetically.  
The office door opened and Gordon slowly walked out.  
“Mr. Winchester,” barked Principal Zachariah Adler, he was a short balding man that loved having power over others.  
Dean got up and followed the man into his office. There were no chairs in front of the desk, presumably moved out of the way when Gordon got his ass beat.  
“We have a zero-tolerance policy for fighting here, regardless of who starts it, anyone that acts aggressively is considered guilty and equally punished. As such you will get ten swats. Stand here,” the man motioned to a spot about two feet in front of the desk, “ feet apart, hands on the edge of the desk here, and look straight ahead.”  
Dean did as he was told, no point in fighting it.  
The first swat came as such a surprise that Dean jumped up and immediately put his hands back.  
“Back in position, Mr. Winchester, normally if you move out I reapply the swat, but as it's your first time I will be generous,” Adler’s voice made Dean want to punch him in the nose, the man was enjoying this too much. Dean got back into position. Swat number two landed so hard it knocked the wind out of Dean, then a moment later the pain blossomed as he gasped for air, when it started to subside the third swat landed. This time tears threatened to fall and Dean forced himself to suck in air. The pain began to blossom again and just as it was reaching the crescendo swat four landed.  
Dean grunted.  
Principal Adler was a sadist, he knew how to paddle so that it caused the most pain, studying the child, knowing when the pain was already at its max, and using that exact moment to inflict more.  
Swat five landed and Dean cried out loudly. Tears flowed at six. Dean was convinced that he’d never be able to draw in a full breath of air again because it kept getting knocked out of him with that damn paddle. When swat seven hits there wasn’t even a slight decrease of pain, just more added. Dean wasn’t sure how he managed to stay in one place somewhere around swat eight, he was sure his butt was swelling as his jeans felt impossibly tight around his ass now. Dean had lost count by nine, tears and snot flowed freely. And the last swat, if it was possible, was twice as hard as any of the prior ones had been and landed with such force that Dean was pushed into the desk. He returned to the position as quickly as possible, sucking in long breaths of air.  
Principal Adler placed the paddle on the desk in front of him. Dean hated it. He’d gotten paddled plenty of times growing up, but this one hurt the most, he was sure of it.  
“You may stand up,” Principal Adler said. Dean did so gingerly his hands gently reaching back to his abused backside.  
“I hope I won’t see you in here again, but if I do this will be waiting,” Adler tapped on the paddle affectionately, “there is a staff bathroom off of Mrs. Trans office, wash up and pull yourself together then get back to class.”  
“Yes, sir,” Dean mumbled and slowly left the office.  
Dean’s face was a mess, his eyes were red and watery, he had tear tracks on his face. He blew his nose and washed his face then leaned against the wall trying to get his breathing back to normal, his whole body shook when he tried to breathe and it took several long minutes before he was able to take a full breath without shuddering. Gently Dean pulled down his jeans and shorts and checked out the damage. His ass had a deep ache although it was just dark pink, he did not doubt that in a couple of days it would be an ugly shade of blue. He was not looking forward to sitting on the hard seats for the remainder of the day. Finally, Dean deemed himself pulled together enough to emerge from the bathroom.  
"Here is your pass. And this needs to be signed and returned tomorrow," Mrs. Tran held out two pieces of paper.  
Dean took them without a word and made his way to class.

/  
It had been a long day for Dean, his ass hadn’t hurt that bad in a while and the hard chairs in school did him no favors. The ride home on the bus allowed him to find out just how many bumps exactly were on the road (44). Each bump and pothole made him wince. The worst of it was trying to act like he was perfectly fine so that no one else would realize what happened. Benny, of course, figured it out about thirty seconds after Dean had gotten to class and on the bus was sympathetic whenever Dean grimaced.  
Dean just wanted to get home and take a shower and a nap, that was until the bus dropped him off at the end of the private drive that leads to the bunker. The bunker was hidden just over a mile from the main road, normally in fair weather Dean just rode his bike from the door to the bus stop and back, but the idea of riding was just not going to happen today. Dean slowly walked the entire way.  
The door clanged open loudly, of course, there was no quiet way to enter the bunker. The men of letters didn’t want anyone sneaking up on them, this made coming home without everyone knowing it almost impossible. Still, Dean tiptoed down the stairs and had just made it to the hall before he heard, “Dean!”  
Dean closed his eyes and sighed in resignation. Sam’s voice was different, authoritative, it wasn’t like Dad’s voice where Dean knew he’d be in a world of trouble if he disobeyed, but Sam no longer sounded like his little brother that tended to defer to him either.  
“Dean, come here,” Sam ordered from what sounded like the library, it was not a request. Dean’s stomach flipped anxiously, he knew what to expect with Dad if he had come home from school after getting in a fight, but Sam wasn’t Dad, and the uncertainty of the situation was messing with his head.  
Entering the library Dean kept his head down.  
“You’re late,” Sam said without looking up from his book.  
“I decided to walk,” Dean wasn’t sure if the school had called and told Sam what happened, he didn’t feel like talking about his bruised backside with his baby brother though.  
Sam looked up, it was unlike Dean to walk if he could avoid it, something was off. Sam stood up and went to his brother and gently took Dean’s chin and lifted it so that Dean was forced to raise his head, Sam turned his face to study the damage Gordon had done. After a moment Dean pulled away.  
“What happened?” Sam asked while he pulled out the first aid kit.  
“I’m fine.”  
“That isn’t what I asked,” Sam said in a firm but understanding tone as he dabbed on some antiseptic ointment on the abrasions on Dean’s face then crossed his arms, and leaned back on the table to wait.  
Dean looked up uncertainly and began to explain. Sam just listened, he wasn’t happy with the situation but it was Dean, he would always jump in to help someone else and that wasn’t going to change. Sam didn’t want it to, but he’d prefer if Dean didn’t always charge in to save the day without thinking it through.  
“Ok,” Sam said after Dean had explained.  
“Ok? Just ok?” Dean hadn’t known what to expect from Sam but just ‘ok’ wasn’t it.  
“Yeah… ok. You had your reason, probably wasn’t the best way to handle it, but I’m not Dad. I’m not going to go and flip out on you over this just try not to get in any more fights alright.”  
“Yeah. Ok, Sammy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had every intention of letting Dean off the hook with the school pictures outfit but then with some of your lovely comments I thought, its Dean, he’ll figure out a way out of it. Plus I love the visual of disheveled Dean. And how’s Mrs. B going to react when those pictures come back? Ha! See, your comments do matter!
> 
> So what sort of mischief should Dean find himself in next? More school trouble? With Sam? Does John come home? I've got a bunch of ideas but not sure which way to go with them next, help a writer out.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean had every intention of keeping his head down and staying out of trouble when he returned to school the next day, unfortunately, trouble always had a way of finding Dean. He headed to his next class with Benny in the basement of the building where all the home ec, shop, and art classes were kept, it was usually a fairly empty hallway. But not today.   
Dean stopped when he saw Al in front of him, he turned to go back but saw a couple of Al’s menacing goons behind him blocking his way.  
“Hey man, I’m just trying to get to class,” Dean tried to talk his way out of whatever was happening. It didn’t work and in a moment he saw Benny being pulled away from him and shoved into a utility room nearby. Al grabbed Dean and swung him into the wall pinning his arm behind him.  
“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, Winchester?” Al hissed in his ear, his voice was like nails on a chalkboard, while putting a little more leverage on Dean’s arm. Dean was already on his toes and the extra twist caused him to cry out.  
“I didn’t do anything to you. I don’t even know you.”  
“Alfie owes me, and I sent Walker in to collect, then you had to go in and interfere. Now I’m still waiting on my money and we can’t have that can we?” Al wrenched Dean’s arm as he asked this until Dean was screaming, “Shhh now, not so loud, don’t want Principal Alder to think you were fighting again, do you?” Al let go of Dean, who crumbled to the ground, and he and his goons left as quickly as they came.   
Dean stumbled to the nearby closet to let Benny out, “You ok?” he asked.  
Benny nodded, “Yeah. Are you?”  
Dean rotated his shoulder, then shook his arm to get some feeling back into it, “I guess so. Come on, we're supposed to make cookies today in home ec.”  
“It's called culinary science,” Benny corrected as he followed his friend to class.

/  
Al and his gang didn’t leave Dean alone after that, it wasn’t every day, but it was often enough for Dean to be on edge between classes and distracted during them. To avoid a confrontation he’d take the long way to class and risk being late and sometimes skip altogether. Sometimes he’d skip a class simply because he had been locked in a closet until a janitor happened upon him. Dean hated who he was becoming, a scared little kid, but not strong enough to take on Al and his cronies.  
Benny encouraged him to tell someone, but with no success; he might have pushed more if he knew everything that happened, only being aware of some of the issues.  
He was too embarrassed to tell Sam, and so doing what Dean does best, soldered on trying to handle everything on his own.

/  
Mrs. Butters set down a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of milk in front of Dean. He smiled up at the woman, er wood nymph, and thanked her. She smiled affectionately back before leaving. She was starting to grow on Dean even if she did throw out his collection of ‘Busty Asian Beauties’ last week - that had resulted in a tantrum of epic proportions by Dean, followed by a long time out in the kitchen corner. Dean munched on the grilled cheese happily, glad that it was a Saturday.   
Sam came in with his laptop and set it in front of Dean.  
Dean looked up, confused.  
“Mind explaining those grades,” Sam said, his voice was stern. Dean glanced between his brother and the screen nervously before setting down his sandwich, wiping his hands, and pulling the laptop closer to look. The list of miss assignments was twice as long as the ones turned in and the tardies and skipped class numbers were all listed on the screen. Dean shrugged, there wasn’t much to say, he wasn’t about to explain that his tardies and absences were because of a bunch of school bullies. Or that missing homework was because he either missed the lesson or didn’t pay attention to it because he was too worried about getting to the next class unscathed.  
Sam crossed his arms waiting for some sort of answer.  
“I’ve already gone through high school. It's stupid and I didn’t feel like wasting my time with it,” Dean said with his typical cocky attitude before bringing his attention back to his lunch. Sam looked at his brother with disbelief, it took him several moments to get his blood pressure back down to a healthy level.  
The younger brother placed his hands on the table and leaned threateningly over Dean, “Well you’re going to have nothing but free time to work on all the late assignments cause you’ve lost all privileges until they’re all turned in,”  
“Come on, Sam,” Dean tried to retort,  
“And,” Sam said over Dean, “you’re really not going to like it if you’re late for more classes.”  
“That’s not fair, Sam, I didn’t ground you when you were younger. And I’ve finished school already, it's so stupid that I’m being forced to go back!”  
“That’s because I did my homework and went to class, but if you want to talk to Dad about it, I’m sure he’d be happy to have a ‘conversation’ about it.”  
Dean scowled knowing that any conversation with Dad would not be an improvement. Sam smirked before picking up his laptop and leaving.

/  
It had been a long few days for Dean. Sam had been unwavering in his decree and Dean was chafing under the restrictions. Privately Mrs. Butters had even told Sam he was being a little hard on Dean but it hadn’t changed anything.   
When Dean joined Benny and Kevin for lunch near the end of the week he looked thoroughly miserable, he listlessly picked at the fiesta pizza. Benny and Kevin exchanged worried glances, fiesta pizza was Dean’s favorite.  
A short blonde boy named Gabe energetically joined the trio, “Guys, did you hear about the old Lindel place?”  
Benny and Kevin shook their heads, Dean picked at a piece of sausage.  
“My brothers told me a kid went missing there in the 40s and no one’s been able to live there since,” Gabe whispered in a hushed earnest voice.  
That peaked Dean’s interest, “Why not?”   
“Everyone that tried to move in ended up with freak accidents or mysterious illnesses.”  
Kevin rolled his eyes, “Michael and Luke told you this? And you honestly believe them?”  
“It’s true!” Gabe insisted, “look.” He pulled out some newspapers and spread them out on the table, Benny scowled as one landed in his homemade gumbo. Dean leaned over the papers and started to read, as he did so he got more and more excited.  
“This sounds like an actual case!”  
“A case?” Benny raised an eyebrow.  
“Yeah like a ghost or something, we should go check it out.”  
“That sounds dangerous,” Kevin said looking entirely uninterested.  
“Aren’t you locked down more than Fort Knox right now?” Benny reminded Dean. Dean rolled his eyes.   
Gabe looked excited, “Not even Mike and Luke will go there, and they’re not scared of anything. Let's do it!” Gabe was excited about the prospect of doing something his big brothers were too scared to do.  
Dean looked at Benny and Kevin, “come on, it's not a big deal.”  
Benny shrugged and agreed to go and Kevin reluctantly agreed after a little friendly teasing from the others.  
Dean pulled out his cell phone and texted Sam:

-There’s a study group for history tonight, I really could use the help, can I go?  
Sam: Where is it?  
-School  
-I can get a ride home with Mrs. Tran  
Sam: I guess it's ok  
-Thx

“Alright, let's go after home ec,”  
“Culinary science,” Benny corrected.  
“Whatever, after next period let's meet at the lower level doors, there’s never security there,” Dean announced and the other boys readily agreed to the adventure.   
Benny was surprised Dean wanted to wait a whole class period before skipping out of school but got even more worried when Dean swiped several canisters of salt. His new friend was a little odd.

/  
It took the boys over an hour to walk to the old Lindel homestead. They had picked a good day for it, even though winters in Kansas could be brutally cold the day was unseasonably warm. It had been a long time since Dean had felt this happy, the weather was warm and he was with his friends. Adventure ahead! Dean grinned to himself as the boys excitedly talked about what might be the cause of the mystery surrounding the property.

The boys finally came up to a house that looked like it was ready to fall over in a medium wind. Benny gave a low whistle at the state of the building. Dean didn’t hesitate to walk right up to the front door, the other boys shrugged and followed behind.  
Trying the door, Dean found it to be locked. He pulled out his lock kit and began to work on the simple lock.  
“Do I want to know why you have a lock picking kit on you?” Benny asked.  
Dean paused and looked up, “Probably not.”  
Click.  
The door popped open easily. Dean carefully opened the door and walked in, Gabe, Benny, and Kevin followed. The door had opened into a hallway, Dean headed to the living room on the left with Gabe while Benny and Kevin went to the kitchen on the right.   
The living room was dark and musty as if the windows hadn’t been opened in years. Benny and Kevin looked around the kitchen, there were dishes in the sink that didn’t look that old. Benny and Kevin exchanged a nervous look as they realized that the house wasn’t quite as abandoned as Gabe had said. The two boys silently agreed they should get the others and get out.   
Returning to the living room they found Dean fiddling with a model of a tall ship while Gabe flipped through a book.  
“Guys, I don’t think this house is abandoned,” Kevin said.  
Benny nodded, “yeah we should get out of here.”  
“That is an excellent idea, boys,” an unfamiliar deep voice said. All four boys spun around to find that they weren’t alone, and they weren’t looking at a ghost. The older man was tall and slender but he looked strong and pissed.  
The boys didn’t say anything.  
“What are you doing in my house?”  
“Your house?” squeaked Gabe.  
“Yes, MY house.”  
“We heard there was a ghost,” Kevin said, feeling foolish for believing the story now.  
The old man looked at the shortest of the boys, “You one of them Shirley boys?”  
Gabe nodded.   
“That story’s been going around for at least two decades. But honestly, how stupid are you, hear about a ghost and chase after it? Between the four of you don’t you have two brain cells to rub together?”  
There was a loud banging on the door, the boys jumped. The old man slowly turned towards the sound.  
“Dean?!”  
Dean groaned at the sound of Sam’s voice. How the hell did he find him already? Sam entered the living room to find one very angry man and four sheepish boys.  
“Don’t tell me you believe in ghost stories too,” the man said to Sam when Sam hadn’t said anything, although he was giving Dean bitch face #41. Dean felt about 2 feet tall under Sam’s glare.  
“What?” Sam asked, confused, “I’m sorry they bothered you, that one’s my brother, I’ll get them out of your home now,” Sam apologized.  
The man grunted and Dean found himself propelled out of the house with a firm hand on his neck.  
“Get in the car. All of you,” Sam ordered. The boys scrambled to follow the order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the awesome suggestions on what happens next. The haunted house idea was so helpful. Let me know what you think. The school pictures haven't come back yet, so we'll have to wait for Mrs. Butter's reaction to them.  
> As always, thanks for reading and your comments, they keep me motivated.


	9. Chapter 9

The drive to Gabe’s house was silent. Dean was upfront next to Sam, but he wished he wasn’t. Sam’s knuckles were white from his grip on the steering wheel and his jaw was so tight Dean was sure he was going to crack a tooth. When they arrived at Gabe’s place Sam and Gabe got out. Mike answered the door when Sam rang the bell. He toppled over laughing when he found out his little brother had actually gone out to the old Lindel place. Their parents weren’t home though, they never were. Gabe sometimes wondered if his father even lived at home anymore since he was so rarely there.

Mrs. Tran was waiting by the door when the Impala rolled up. Sam had called her earlier to find out what time the study session was supposed to be over only to learn that there wasn’t one. That's when the entire plot had been foiled. Kevin sheepishly walked up to the house,  
“Hi, mom,” he said nervously. Mrs. Tran gave him such a cold look even Dean shuddered from in the car.  
“It’s clear to me these friends of yours are a bad influence on you. You never did these things before. I don’t think you should be allowed to associate with them anymore.”  
“Mom! No!” Kevin said desperately, “Please.”  
Sam’s defense rose up at the insinuation that Dean was a bad influence, sure he got into trouble, but he wasn’t bad, “Ma’am, that might be a little extreme,” he started to say.  
“I don’t think so, that brother of yours skips classes, gets in fights, and now he’s encouraging my Kevin to skip school and trespass. Thank you for bringing him home,” she said and slammed the door in Sam’s face.

Benny’s mom pulled a “Wait till your father gets home” thanked Sam for bringing him home and then it was just Sam and Dean, alone in the Impala. Dean wanted to melt into the leather seats.

“What the hell, Dean. Did you even research this or just jump up and go?”  
Dean didn’t answer, he read a couple of headlines and somehow managed to convince the others to go. Not that it was particularly difficult to do so but he knew he hadn’t done a good job researching. He had just been so excited about the idea of a case, it had been so long since he’d done anything besides be in the bunker or school.  
Sam kept going when Dean didn’t respond, “Look, I know you’ve been feeling restless lately, I called Mrs. Tran to find out what time the study session would be done so we could go get a burger and maybe catch a movie, only to find out you’re chasing a ghost story. And what if it really had been a ghost? All you brought was salt and your knife! You and the others could have been hurt, this isn’t like you, Dean. You better hope Dad doesn’t find out about this.”  
“We were really going to get burgers?”   
Sam glared at Dean, of all the things he got out of that of course he would focus on the food.   
Grabbing Dean’s arm just above the elbow, Sam pulled him into the bunker and down the main stairs before propelling him down the hall with an order to go to his room. Dean scampered away quickly; he'd seen Sam mad over the years, but he’d always been stronger if it came down to a physical disagreement. But now with his 14-year-old body and Sam being the full grown man in his prime that he was, Dean knew he was at his brother's mercy. He wasn’t exactly scared of him, it was more of a healthy dose of self-preservation instincts. 

Sam paced back and forth agitated, he began pulling boxes off of shelves in the storage room looking for something he’d seen before.  
“Samuel, what on earth are you looking for?” Mrs. Butters asked when she found him a short while later as she carefully stepped around the various boxes.  
“This!” Sam said holding up a wooden hairbrush he had been searching for.  
“Sam, I thought you already had a brush for your hair.”  
“This is for Dean.”  
“Dean’s hair is hardly long enough for that.”  
“No, he needs to be taught a lesson and this is going to help,” Sam said, his anger radiating through him as he climbed back out of the piles of boxes. Understanding dawned on Mrs. Butters.  
“Oh no, you don’t! You are much too angry to deal with him right now. Into the kitchen, .. go on. You need to calm down first.”

Sam found himself sitting in the kitchen with a large mug of calming tea and Mrs. Butters making him explain what happened. Mrs. Butters turned out to be an excellent listener and by the time Sam had vented his frustrations he was much calmer than he had been before.

Sam pushed on the door to Dean’s room and saw his brother anxiously sitting on the side of his bed.   
Dean looked up when he heard the door, seeing the disappointment on Sam’s face made his stomach flip. He swallowed and bit his lip, guilt radiated off of him. He stood up and faced his brother, he was still a foot shorter than Sam but at least standing he felt like he could look his brother in the eye.  
“Sammy, I’m SORRY, ok,” he pleaded.  
“You know what Dean, I can’t believe you right now. We’ve been over this before. We’ve agreed not to lie to each other,” Sam said firmly but gently.  
“Sammy, I had to…” Dean tried to explain.  
“No, you didn’t. You broke the rules, you lied, you could have been hurt and the others could have been hurt. You knew better and decided to just run into potential danger unprepared anyway.”  
Dean just looked at his sneakers.  
“You have to get it through your head that you can’t be reckless like that, Dean,” Sam said, “And I’m going to make sure it does.”   
Dean’s head snapped and he looked questioningly at his brother.   
Sam sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“Sam?” Dean asked.  
“There are consequences. Obviously, nothing else seemed to work maybe this will,” Sam explained, and with a single proficient movement, he yanked Dean’s jeans down and pulled his brother over his knee.  
“Sam! What the hell! I’m older than you!” Dean tried to push himself back up but he was no match for Sam’s strength. Sam had a tight grip on his waist and his legs were pinned under Sam’s right leg. Sam pulled down Dean’s shorts, Dean reached back trying to prevent it but Sam simply pushed his hand away.  
“I don’t like doing this but I don’t see any other choice. You. Will. Not. Lie. To. Me.”   
Each word was emphasized with a hard smack with the hairbrush. Dean howled. Angry red marks quickly surfaced. Sam didn’t start off easy, there was no build-up and Dean felt his body rock forward with each hit. His ass was on fire and Sam was just getting started. He gasped at how hard the hits rained down on him and he desperately tried to reach back and protect himself but Sam simply grabbed his wrist and held it up to his lower back and continued his assault. Sam peppered his ass then focused on his upper thighs then back to his butt.  
“Sam, I’m sorry,” Dean cried out with a rare breath he managed to get then let out a sob.  
“I know,” Sam answered but didn’t slow. If Dean’s squirming was any indication and the bright red bottom in front of him Sam knew he was getting close to where he needed to be. There wasn’t an untouched area from the top of Dean’s butt to halfway down his thighs. Sam continued on with a steady rhythm. Dean began to sob in earnest now, the apologies and begging his brother to stop had ended and Dean just limply lay across his brother's knee, pitifully sorry for everything and trying to breathe through the pain.  
Once the coloring was a deep shade of red and Sam was confident that Dean would be feeling the spanking for at least the next day he stopped.   
Dean gulped for air as if he had just come to the surface after being underwater. Sam gently pulled up Dean’s boxers making the boy hiss then he rubbed his back and waited for Dean to calm down enough to stand up on his own.   
The spanking itself didn’t last nearly as long as Dean thought, but Sam had been through, and not an inch was spared.  
“No more lying, Dean, no more,” Sam said quietly as he stroked his brother’s hair.  
Dean shook his head, he couldn’t speak yet if he wanted, but Sam wasn’t expecting words. He lay over his brother's knee and the bed trying to calm down, it was a long time before Dean’s sobs subsided into hiccups. He whined as he pushed himself up and found himself standing in front of Sam. Tears, although they had slowed, still spilled out of his eyes and he looked thoroughly miserable. He fell into his brother’s arms looking for comfort that Sam easily gave him.  
“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean said softly as Sam stroked his back.   
“I know,” Sam said gently.

/  
Dean joined his normal table the next day at lunch, he gingerly sat down and looked at his sullen friends, “You mad at me?” he asked unsure of how much they blamed him for getting in trouble.  
“My mom will get over it, someday, although I have a 10-page paper to write about my poor choices,” Kevin said as he stirred his soup.  
Benny shook his head, “No, brother, I choose to go along too. Dad was pretty pissed off when he got home though, I’d rather not deal with that again.”  
Dean looked at Gabe who shrugged, “My parents don’t care. Mike and Luke teased me for the rest of the night though.”   
Dean thought Gabe looked a little sad, he might not have gotten in trouble, but he also didn’t have anyone that cared that much about him either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve tried not to make Sam into a John 2.0 although he’s fairly harsh with Dean here, Dean did kind of find all the trouble he could and jump right in. Anyway, hope you liked it, and as always I enjoy hearing what you thought. Happy Valentines Day.


	10. Chapter 10

“I’m never going to get this!” Dean exclaimed in frustration and dropped his head to his book.  
“Yes you will, come on let's try the next one,” Sam urged and tried to pull the Algebra 1 book from under Dean’s face. Sitting up with a sigh, Dean looked at the next problem. Algebra was something he had barely learned the first time around and with lack of use had forgotten all of it, he was finding relearning it much harder than anticipated but at least Sam was a patient tutor. The brothers had taken to the habit of working on research and homework together before dinner and Dean’s grades were slowly improving.  
“Dean Winchester!” an angry Mrs. Butters called out as she entered the room. Sam glanced questioningly at his brother who responded with a confused shrug. He had no idea what he’d done wrong this time.  
“Samuel, will you just look at this,” Mrs. Butters dropped a packet down in front of Sam and then glared at Dean, “And you, young man, ought to be ashamed.”  
Sam opened the packet and pulled out pictures. Dean’s school photos had arrived. Dean had an impish grin on his face, his green eyes and freckles stood out with the lighting and disheveled dirty blonde hair and rumpled shirt and tie. Sam smiled at the picture, his brother looked so young and innocent and at the same time a gleam of mischievousness in his eye, Dean’s essence had been captured perfectly by the photo.   
“That is NOT how I sent you to school!” Mrs. Butters said, clearly unhappy with the results. Sam just started to laugh.  
“Maybe not but this is the best picture I’ve seen of him, we’re putting the 8x10 in a frame,” Sam announced.  
“What?! Wait a minute,” Dean said, horrified at the idea of anyone that came to the Bunker and see his picture, he jumped up to grab the picture from his big, younger brother but all Sam had to do was hold it above his head and Dean knew he’d lost the battle. Mrs. Butters huffed but said no more about it as she went back to whatever it was she did. Sam wasted no time in finding a frame and putting the picture up, and out of reach, the extras hidden in his room. Dean cursed him under his breath, but loud enough that Sam would hear; secretly Dean was pleased though, Dad had never ordered school pictures, there was only a handful of him when he was younger, it made him feel good that Mrs. Butters had even ordered them and Sam had shoved one in his wallet.

/

Sam sat in his usual chair in the library surrounded by books, he could hear Mrs. Butters in the laundry room bustling about. Dean was somewhere around the bunker, the last time Sam had seen his older-little brother was as he slid by the doorway in his socks and then the crash as he was unable to stop in time before sliding into a shelf, followed a minute later by Mrs. Butters scolding him. Sam chuckled to himself and went back to his reading.  
The unmistakable sound of the main door opening sounded and then the clang of it shutting behind. John started coming down the stairs.  
“Boys!” John called out, he sounded tired and not in a good mood (was he ever?), by the time he made it to the bottom of the stairs both Sam and Dean were at attention in the front room, their years of being John’s little soldiers still drilled into them.   
Sam and Dean glanced nervously at each other when John dropped his bag onto the table.  
“Sam, report!” John ordered.  
Sam stood up a little straighter and informed John of the recent cases he’d found and ones that had been resolved by other hunters. Dean slumped down a little, he had always been the one John had turned to for updates and he felt a little slighted at the demotion.  
John grunted in approval after Sam stopped talking, he turned to Dean and frowned slightly.  
“Dean,” he snapped, “head up, shoulders back.”   
Dean immediately came to attention although his face burned in embarrassment at the chastisement.  
“Report,” John ordered.  
Dean shrugged, Sam had covered everything already. John narrowed his eyes. Dean swallowed nervously, Dad was mad but he wasn’t sure why.  
“Nothing? Then perhaps you can tell me why I’ve gotten several emails and phone calls from the school? Hum?”  
Dean shook his head.  
“No? Boy, let me remind you, your job is to go to school and stay out of trouble.”  
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." Dean said quietly.  
John grunted neutrally.  
"Boys, dinner in 30," Mrs. Butters said coming into the room, she froze when she saw John. John looked at the intruder in surprise. Mrs. Butters quickly straightened up and put on a smile  
“Hello there. Boys, you didn’t tell me we had a guest,” Mrs. Butters chided but it was clear she wasn’t upset.  
John raised his eyebrow at Sam in a silent demand for an explanation.  
Sam cleared his throat, “Uh, Dad this is Mrs. Butters she worked for the Men of Letters before, and now… is back. Mrs. Butters, this is our dad, John Winchester.”  
“Very nice to meet you,” Mrs. Butters said adding in a girlish giggle, “I’ll just go get another place setting for dinner.”  
The nymph left and John glared at his sons, “Neither of you thought of mentioning her when I asked for an update?”  
“Sorry, Dad,” the boys answered.   
John shook his head, “I’m going to wash up for dinner,” he pointed a finger at each of his sons in turn, “and then we’re all going to have a long discussion.”   
“Yes, sir,” Sam and Dean answered uneasily. Discussions with John were never a good thing.

/

Dinner was a little unusual that night, Mrs. Butters seemed to be quite taken with John. John also turned up the charm. The boys glanced at each other, Dean made a gagging face at Sam who almost choked on his dinner. John noticed that and studied his sons.  
“Why don’t you boys clean up then wait for me in Sam’s room, we need to discuss a few things,” the older man said then offered his hand to Mrs. Butters who blushed and took his hand and the two left the kitchen.  
“What do you think dad wants?” Sam asked as he handed a dish to Dean to dry.   
The boy shrugged. “I’d like to hope its for a hunt or something, but dad seems to have forgotten that I’m not actually 14,”  
“What was going on with dad and Mrs. Butters though? That was so gross,” Dean couldn’t help making a face at the thought, then groaned as he glanced at the pile of dishes that still needed to be washed. When dishes were washed, dried, and put away Sam and Dean made their way to Sam’s room. It was a while before John joined them, and he was not looking very happy.

“I can’t believe you two knuckleheads let a wood nymph live here,” John roared at his sons.  
“But she’s been great, the beds don’t smell weird and her cooking, Dad, you tried it, it was so good!” Dean argued.  
“Dean! Enough!” John snapped, Dean wisely shut his mouth with a click, “I hope you both didn’t get too used to her, I took care of it.”  
Sam and Dean looked at each other, panicked, “What do you mean ‘took care of it’ ?” Sam wanted to know while Dean cried out, “You WHAT?”   
“I didn’t kill her if that's what you two are all worried about. But she’s gone.”  
Dean looked ready to cry.  
“Will she be back? Where did she go?” Sam demanded  
“Would you two listen to yourselves, concerned over a damn wood nymph. She’s gone and she better not come back while I’m here, and I don’t care where she went.”  
“Dad, you can’t do this. This was her home, she wasn’t evil!”   
“Sam, let it go.”  
“NO!” Sam yelled back. Neither he nor Dean saw the hit coming, but John got him good enough across the face to turn his head.  
Dean’s years of protecting his younger brother kicked in and he launched himself between his dad and brother. Sam was quick to react and pulled Dean back and pulled him behind him, it was his turn to do the protecting.  
“Dean, go to your room, I need to talk to Sam,” John ordered.  
“No.”  
“Excuse me? I gave you an order.”  
“And I said no,” Dean crossed his arms stubbornly.  
John saw red, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, especially from Dean who had always been quick to follow an order, Sam had always been the one to argue with him. Grabbing his oldest tightly by the arm he dragged him out of Sam’s room, down the hall, and propelled Dean into Dean’s own room. Dean had so much momentum that he was only stopped by his bed, he quickly spun around to see John closing the door and heard the tell tale ‘click’ of the door lock. Locks that he wasn’t able to pick.  
John headed back to Sam’s room where his youngest looked like he was ready to start a fight with him, the side of Sam’s face had an angry handprint.  
“You better adjust that attitude real quick, Sam. You may be a giant but I can still take you and I’ve got no problem helping you fix it,” John said calmly.   
Sam had years of practice masking how he really felt and it only took a moment for him to put on a neutral expression and unclench his fists.  
“Better. Now, there’s a string of corpses found in Tulsa, you call up Garth and meet him down there tomorrow, if you leave now you’ll be able to make it by midnight, I emailed you everything you need to know.”  
Sam stared, stunned, at his father.  
“Well, what are you waiting for?” John said heading toward the door.  
“What about Dean?”  
“What about him, he’s staying here.”  
“Alone?”  
“What do you think I am? Get packing. I’ll let Dean know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a little longer for me to get this chapter out to you, been pretty busy and hardly had time to sit down and write. I'm not thrilled with this chapter, it was different in my head but I couldn't get it out the way I wanted. Oh well, this is what I've got, I hope you don't hate it.  
> So John returned and sent Mrs. Butters away. And he's making Sam go on a hunt, leaving Dean behind. How well with this go over?

**Author's Note:**

> I love to hear what you think.  
> Please leave a comment.


End file.
